Birthdays
by jayfeather86
Summary: <html><head></head>"Law was twenty-six today, and he still didn't feel like he deserved it."</html>


Law sat silently at the empty table, his head resting on his skinny arms. His legs dangled from the chair he sat in, too tall for his thin, malnourished frame. He let out a tiny cough, and the candle flame flickered, its light slowly melting the wax. The lone candle sat in the middle of the small, lumpy cupcake he had baked for himself, or rather tried to. It had turned out pathetic, like most other things he did. He had added blueberries filched from the kitchen to try to make it more like old times, but that had only succeeded in making it blue and lumpy.

Pathetic. Law stared at the lone candle flame from beneath the shadow of his white hat, biting his lip to hold back a sniffle. It was his birthday today. The sixth of October, when the leaves began to change and the nights grew chilly. At least, it had been that way back in his home country of Frevance. That, just like his old life, was no more. He couldn't hold back a quiet sniffle, feeling his lower lip wobble, and he clenched his bony fists. No. He couldn't cry anymore. That was a luxury of the past.

He was eleven years old today. Eleven years, twenty-three hours, and forty-two minutes exactly. He had counted the minutes as they went by, sitting alone in the mostly unused room adjoining the Donquixotes' dining hall. The whole day had passed by quietly, and no one was the wiser. Not that anyone cared about his existence, anyway. That was another thing of the past.

The past… Memories came flooding back, despite how hard Law had tried to suppress them, and he couldn't hold back the quiet sobs that came, burying his face in his arms. _Mama… Papa… Lamie…_ he thought quietly, the raw ache in his heart surging back as their names passed through his mind. He remembered birthdays past spent with them, laughing and celebrating with a cake his mother baked, the kind with a fluffy center and crispy edges and his favorite peanut butter icing. He remembered the burgeoning excitement he'd always feel when he woke up on that special day, knowing that it would be filled with wonder. His father's gifts were his favorite, usually a book about medicine or even a few surgical tools of his own. Lamie had always tried her best, though, scribbling a handmade card for him and presenting it with her sunny grin.

…That was before she got sick, though. Before they all got sick. Law felt a tidal wave of sadness wash over his tiny candle flame of happiness, drowning it in sorrow, and he felt tears prick at his eyes again. They were dead, he thought coldly, trying to force himself to be cold to the fact. They were dead, and they were never coming back.

Law's white-mottled hands shook, and he buried his head in his arms, trying to muffle his tears. Some birthday this was… His candle was starting to run low, wax dripping down to touch the lumpy surface of the cupcake. "H-happy birthday to m-me…" he whispered, forcing a shaky smile onto his face, even as more tears welled up in his eyes. But he simply couldn't keep up the façade, and Law let out a sob, burying his face in his hands as an overwhelming surge of loneliness squeezed his chest.

It wasn't fair…! Why did he have to be the one who lived? Why did he have to watch everyone he loved _die_?! It would have been better if they had simply shot him, too, he thought bitterly, or even just let him burn in that hospital. At least he could have comforted Lamie that way.

Law was too caught up in his misery to notice the sound of footsteps approaching behind him, or even the loud crash that resulted when the owner of those footsteps tripped over his own feet and fell into a stack of crates. But he did notice the tap on his shoulder, more like a harsh poke, really. He lifted his head up to glare over his shoulder at the perpetrator, rubbing the sore spot on his back. "H-hey, that was…"

He trailed off as he realized who it was, and his eyes widened, then narrowed. "What the hell do you w-want?" he asked, scowling up at Corazon.

Predictably, Corazon offered no answer, simply glancing down at Law over the rims of his sunglasses. Instead, he set something down on the table, pushing it towards Law.

Law looked at it suspiciously for a moment, glancing from the rectangular object to Corazon. When he found no evidence of trickery or some kind of prank, he pulled it closer, almost surprised to see that it was a book. His eyes widened as he looked at the cover, the title _Advanced Studies of Toxicological Medicine_ embossed upon it. He stared up at Corazon in disbelief, both bewildered and confused and somewhat grateful. "B-but… why?"

Corazon simply shrugged. He glanced expectantly from Law to the lumpy cupcake sitting on the table, the candle burning low. He quirked an eyebrow, as if to say, _What are you waiting for?_

Law paused for a moment, blinking before turning back to the cupcake and its candle. _Make a wish,_ he thought to himself. And he did. He blew out the candle with a quick puff of breath, leaning forward to make sure it reached, and they were left only in the light of the lantern hanging from the ceiling.

Corazon nodded and merely patted Law's head before turning and walking away, hitting his head on the doorframe only once before he was able to exit the room. Law watched with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief as Corazon left, and then he turned his attention back to the book.

It was in good condition, the pages still crisp and the cover spotless, obviously not read by many people. Law noticed a piece of paper sticking out from inside, though, and he opened the front cover curiously to reveal a folded note. He picked it up and unfolded the crinkled paper, and his eyes widened at what it said. In Corazon's messy, looping scrawl, it read: _Take care of yourself, kid. Happy birthday._ Law's hands shook as he clutched the note, and he couldn't help but start to cry again, although this time he was smiling.

_15 years later_

Law woke up the morning of the sixth of October with a heart that felt heavy like lead. He didn't even have to look at the calendar anymore. He knew what day it was. An anniversary that haunted him every year. He sighed, rolling over and pulling the blankets over his tattooed shoulders.

It didn't seem fair. The thought process was routine; it came and went every year on this day. He thought of his hometown, his family. His mother. His father. Lamie. None of them would be able to celebrate with him, or celebrate birthdays of their own. Law was twenty-six today, and he still didn't feel like he deserved it. As the lone survivor of his family, of his country… He felt like he had failed them. Fifteen years had passed, and still he had nothing to show for it. His family was dead. His most cherished person was dead. Law had done nothing but mourn. He had even failed to avenge Corazon when he had the chance, all those years ago.

Law sat up in bed and merely stared at the floor, unsure of what to do. This day was just a reminder of his failure. It always had been. He put his head in his hands, feeling sadness constrict his heart. _Dammit…_ Every year he swore he wouldn't cry, and every year he broke that promise to himself. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he angrily wiped his eyes, growling to himself.

This was pathetic…! He was sitting here crying instead of keeping his promise to Cora-san! He clenched his fists, glaring down at the floor through teary eyes. It wasn't fair… Why did he have to live and not Cora-san? Life was wasted on him, Law thought bitterly. Cora-san had _died_ for him, and what had that done?

He bit his lip, feeling guilty for even thinking ill of Corazon. He had too much respect and love for Corazon to tarnish his memory like that. It wasn't fair to either of them, really.

Now that the tears had subsided, Law sighed, shoulders sagging. He got up from the bed and wandered aimlessly over to his bookshelf, still in his boxers. It was stuffed with various volumes of medical textbooks and a few select fiction books he kept as keepsakes, mostly those he remembered from his childhood. He looked at them from time to time, just to keep the memories alive.

Thinking of memories… Law's eyes were drawn to a worn old volume at the edge of the second shelf, a protected spot he reserved only for his most prized tomes. The spine was cracked and the cover torn, but the title was still legible: _Advanced Studies of Toxicological Medicine._ Law felt a wave of not-quite-painful longing come over him, and he reached for the book, pulling it from the shelf with almost reverent gentleness.

There was a piece of old, yellowed paper sticking out from the inside cover, and he opened the book after a moment's pause. Seeing the note made Law's eyes tear up again, and suddenly he was transported back to that day fifteen years ago…

He remembered it vividly: sitting alone in the dark with only his misery for comfort, Corazon's (somewhat) gentle hand on his shoulder, presenting him with the book, and the note…

Law realized there were tears streaming down his cheeks, and that was why his vision was so blurry, feeling warm droplets falling onto his hands as they rolled down his face. His hands shook slightly, and he sniffled with a quiet gasp, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand. He looked down at the note with a shaky, wistful smile, tracing the handwriting with the tip of his finger.

_Take care of yourself, kid,_ it read in Corazon's faded scrawl. _Happy birthday._


End file.
